Fourteen people have text me today,” I beam at my mum. “I just counted.”
I was 15 and had inherited my first phone a week prior – my dad’s old Nokia 3310. In the seven days that followed, I became obsessed with accumulating more and more numbers in my phonebook. I asked everyone and anyone, with little care for whether I would actually ever need, or really even want, to speak to them. Almost 20 years on, my clunky Nokia is now an iPhone, I no longer save each number with a “<3” next to it and I don’t have to bury myself under the covers after 8pm if I want to send a message. Other than that, little has changed. I have still, throughout my life, been obsessed with gathering friends, adamant that the more friends you have, the happier you are.
Through my twenties and into my early thirties, I’d made it my mission to befriend everyone I came across after my group of friends from secondary school dispersed. I felt if I could just make it back into the protective arms of a tribe, I’d feel at peace.
The thing was, although I felt I had the equation all figured out (more friends equals more happiness), I found that the immediate high of feeling I’d made a new friend was short lived, only to be replaced by a familiar, underlying sense of not belonging. And so I’d renew my determination and double down on my efforts, certain that I was only a mere handful of new friends away from achieving ultimate contentment. I never got there. Where I got to instead was a place where I found many of these hurriedly acquired friendships to be draining, tiresome and anxiety-inducing; the opposite of the way social media often depicts large groups of friends (invariably pictured laughing and loving life en masse). Ironically, the more I weaved my way into other people’s lives, the less I felt a sense of community. I was juggling a full social calendar that left me feeling empty, trying to keep my plethora of friendships going as if they were hot potatoes in my hands.
And though I knew something was amiss, it wasn’t clear to me exactly what until I discovered evolutionary psychologist Robin Dunbar’s findings into friendships. Based on research conducted in the Nineties, he determined that the optimal number of friends a person can have is five; any fewer than this and we are prone to loneliness. But, interestingly, any more than this and our happiness starts to tail off too. We do not, as I’d believed for 30 years, feel more worthy based on the quantity of our friendships, nor does it guarantee a sense of community, and fighting to keep a wide circle of friends becomes less viable, and indeed valuable, the older we get.
Dunbar’s study resurfaced recently due to its mention in Elizabeth Day’s book Friendaholic, and it (together with Day’s brilliant deep dive into friendship and why she herself became so addicted to friendship) revealed to me a surprising, wholly enlightening truth: your happiness does not increase with your friend count. In fact, the opposite can be true. To some, this might have been obvious from the outset. To others, it might come as the same revelation (and indeed, relief) it did for me. My question then was, why? Why was I obsessed with making friends when fewer, more deeply connected friendships might bring me more satisfaction?
“People are greatly influenced by psychological drivers that make us seek social validation and connection,” Railey Molinario, an award-winning relationship intelligence expert, tells me. “Evolutionary psychology suggests that our ancestors relied on social groups for survival, providing protection, shared resources, and a better chance of thriving. This deep-seated need for belonging persists, making us believe that having more friends will give us more support and security. Childhood experiences also shape our desire for a large social network. Early social interactions and the reinforcement of social norms influence our perception of friendship and social success.
“Having more friends can lead to superficial connections rather than deep, meaningful relationships,” she continues. “As the number of friends increases, the time and energy available for each relationship decreases, leading to weaker bonds and less emotional fulfillment.”
Molinario explains to me that relationship intelligence emphasises the importance of authenticity over numbers. “Genuine friendships, where we can be our true selves and feel deeply connected, are far more rewarding than numerous superficial ones. Additionally, the illusion of closeness created by social media can trick us into believing we have more meaningful connections than we actually do.”
Psychotherapist Mark Vahrmeyer also feels that social media is somewhat to blame for the “incremental shift” towards the idea that having more friends equals more happiness. “I believe that this has in no small part come about through the commoditisation of relationships more generally driven by social media,” he tells me. “Depth of friendship is in many cases sacrificed for the illusion of connection driven by similarity of experience, feelings or taste. This would be the arc of immature relationships.
Recognising what may be driving our need to collect friends is the first step. Then asking ourselves whether it is really about having more friends and if so, what is it that more and more is giving us?— Mark Vahrmeyer, psychotherapist
“On the television programme First Dates, viewers are given a table-side perspective on the unfolding of a blind date between two programme participants who have been matched. Psychologically mature individuals will generally be curious about each other and foster a sense of connection through mutually sharing information about themselves that the other then receives, digests and responds to,” Vahrmeyer continues. “There is also a teenage version of the same programme and what stands out strongly is how many teenagers will seek out a sense of ‘sameness’ with their date – ‘oh, you like Star Wars, so do I!’ – as if this is evidence of compatibility for relationships. This is what I mean by immature relationships.
“Combine this immaturity with an ever-increasing consumer economy where success is flaunted on social media through the amassing of desirable products as the evidence of wealth status and it’s not a stretch to see how more friends has come to equal more success.”
I probe further. I want to know why there was such a specific number when it comes to the “perfect” amount of friends and furthermore. Why five? “Dunbar’s research suggests that humans can maintain stable social relationships with about 150 people (so people who recognise us ‘on sight’). Within this broader circle, having around five close friends represents our most intimate and trusting relationships,” Molinario explains. “This number is significant because it allows for deep, meaningful interactions without overwhelming our emotional and cognitive resources. Friendship authenticity is crucial; having a few genuine relationships can be more fulfilling than more superficial ones.”
And Vahrmeyer stresses that relationships “cost us time and energy” and so such an investment can only return happiness or contentment if we find it to be worthwhile and sustainable. “Some relationships are purely transactional, such as business relationships, for example. There is a return but it is not about connection, at least as its primary purpose. However, I would not regard these as friendships.”
Both experts argue that the figure of “five” should be taken as a rough guide, as each individual’s optimal friendship number will vary slightly (though not hugely). Vahrmeyer suggests that the key to finding our number is understanding our own needs and the reason behind our need for more friends. “If having more friends is driven by a fear of missing out, and/or a need to be successful by having more friends, then invariably we will expend energy on these ‘friendships’ without real connection.
“Recognising what may be driving our need to collect friends, is the first step. Then asking ourselves whether it is really about having more friends and if so, what is it that more and more is giving us?” he says.
The illusion of closeness created by social media can trick us into believing we have more meaningful connections than we actually do— Railey Molinario, relationship intelligence expert
And if you’re reading this thinking, “But, I don’t have five friends” – psychotherapist, author and founder of The Purpose Workshop, Eloise Skinner, urges you not to stress: “It’s really an individual journey to see what works for you. I’d recommend that people don’t fixate on a number (thinking: ‘I just need to get three more close friends before I hit the optimal level’) – it can become a bit transactional. Instead, check in with yourself as you maintain and develop your friendships. Be honest with yourself about which friendships energise, comfort and inspire you, and put in the work to develop and support them.”
My own painful realisation is this: it was never about having more friends (though this may come as no surprise to some of you). It was actually about collecting reasons why I was of value; about trying to elevate my own self-worth. Surely, surely, I had reasoned subconsciously, the more people that like me, the more likeable I must be. My quest to accumulate friends could have been replaced by an insatiable appetite for earning money, collecting awards or acquiring cars. For me, it just happened to be people.
Because the truth is, for all the numbers exchanged, coffees grabbed and invites to parties shared, if I looked through my phonebook and counted the number of friends who I felt I could be wholly myself with, who I could rely on without question and who made me feel energised and calm simultaneously, there are likely to be five. And each of those five add more value to my life than the rest of my phonebook combined.
So perhaps my true number, my happiest number, is six: five close friends plus a very good therapist.
